Light
by BabyAlyx96
Summary: Two men sit outside, waiting for their light to wash over them. NickGreg (Slash)


**Authors Note: Just something I came up with awhile ago. Thought I'd finally get around to posting it. I think I was trying out a new style of writing. Don't know, really.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: Two men sit outside, waiting for their light to wash over them. N/G (Slash)**

**Rating: PG**

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So there he sat. Arms wrapped around his waist, winter hat fitted snugly to his head. There was no snow. No cold. It was Las Vegas, where the temperature was always hot. Even during winter. Eyes watched him. He couldn't feel their presence. Didn't know someone was there until the foot came down upon the asphalt, thump reaching his ears. Turning only his eyes, he looked. A man. A tall, square jawed man. The man came closer with each step. 

"Hello," was his muttered acknowledgment. Eyes turned back forwards. Ignored as the man sat beside him. A faint greeting drifted by. Was he mad? He wasn't sure. His eyes continued to stare. They would not stray off course. But then he felt it. That warmth upon his neck. Making him stretch, letting more skin show. Needy.

It snapped in his mind. "Stop." He pulled away just far enough. Breath was still felt. Could almost still feel those lips. No. The man sighed. Why? He knew why. There was confusion.

"What's wrong?" That tone. As if he were a bother. He wasn't. He wanted to growl, to draw blood. There was anger. And resentment. And love. He loved. The man loved. They loved together. His heart began to soften. His mind began to harden. It wasn't this easy. It couldn't.

"Nothing." But there was. Always. Never. Another sigh. From him. The man merely raised an eyebrow. His eyes turned to look. Only confusion. No hurt. That would be in his own eyes. When wasn't there? When they were together. In bed. Comfortable. Impressionable.

"Tell me." No. There was nothing to tell. They never told. Nobody. Not even each other. Why should they? There was nothing to tell. But his heart began again. Like it always did around the man. It would beat slightly faster, his mouth would get a little drier. Was it love? Of course.

"Why?" Would he get the right meaning of that word? Would this man ever get any meaning of any word right? It hurt. He didn't even know it hurt, but it did. Cars sped past. Silence. Another car.

"Because I want to try to help." Wrong. That wasn't the right meaning. He should just give up. But could he? After months, possibly years, of this? Never. Nothing could come close to this feeling. Nothing could ever make him give it up. Did that make him weak? Maybe.

"Why can't we tell?" His depressed tone said everything his words couldn't. His hurt, his disappointment, his confusion, his doubts. It all shone through. The man rubbed his face tiredly. Fingers running over the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. Lights reflected off the glass. Would they ever find their light?

"Something might happen." That was always the answer he got. Never anything better. Never anything more. And why should he? He was only half of this thing they participated in. A relationship.

"Like what?" He couldn't see it. He could feel it. Scanning their surroundings, making sure nobody was in sight. Where was this paranoia moments before? With that kiss? He shuddered at the memory, that feeling coursing through him. Love. Passion.

"I couldn't…" What? He waited for the sentence to finish. Seconds seemed to pass endlessly. He hated time. "live… knowing that something could happen. That people would look at you, us, and think a stereotype." He understood. That thought ran through his mind daily. But why couldn't they work past that? They could. They should. He wanted to.

"Who cares?" One last sigh. This conversation was about to end. Like it always did.

"Me." And that one word wrenched his heart. The whisper of it, the meaning of it. It meant so much more. And he cared, too. Maybe not for the same reasons. Maybe for the wrong reasons. But he cared. And that mattered.

So there they sat. His arms wrapped around the mans waist. The mans head rested upon his, heat shared between the two bodies. And there they stayed. Happily and content. Red and pink started to move its way across the darkened sky. Then purple and yellow. Their bodies covered by the colours. They had found their light.


End file.
